After the Rain
by Sara Jaye
Summary: Serra had always considered herself to be a good judge of character, and she didn't think much of Priscilla. But a rainy night and an overheard conversation would soon change all that. Pre-femslash.


Written for FE Fest on LJ. Prompt: "Any series, any pairing - hurt/comfort in the rain"

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><p>Serra had always considered herself an excellent judge of character. Just by looking at someone she could tell whether they were good or bad, intelligent or idiotic, whether or not they came from a noble background. So naturally, just by looking at Raven's sullen face, she could tell right away that he was <em>not<em> a pleasant person and made it a point to stay away from him.

Her fellow medic Priscilla, however, obviously thought the complete opposite; every time Serra saw her she was hanging off of Raven's arm or following him around like a puppy. Though Serra wondered how a fine lady like Priscilla could be in love with such a sour man, she rarely if ever thought about it. What business was it of hers that Priscilla had terrible taste in men?

Priscilla herself had always seemed stuck up to Serra. Aloof, melancholy, always lost in her daydreams or little thoughts. Men would stare at her and quite a few (Erk included, to Serra's chagrin) had made advances on her, but she seemed unappreciative of such attentions. As if they weren't good enough for her, but a sour mercenary somehow was.

She certainly didn't expect to find out what she did one rainy night...or for the way it would make her feel.

-x-

"-something dangerous!" Serra stopped in her tracks at the unmistakable sound of Priscilla's voice. At least, she _thought_ it was her; Priscilla wasn't known to raise her voice easily.

"_Listen_ to me," another voice chimed in, the gruff, sour voice that could only belong to that Raven fellow.

"Then, now more than ever, I cannot be made to leave! If you are to face danger, then let me face it by your side!" Priscilla cried, and Serra forgot about where she had been going.

"You're not listening, Priscilla. You were sent to Etruria for adoption, you are no longer of House Cornwell," Raven said. "And...I am no longer your brother."

"Lord Brother!" Priscilla's voice was a keening wail now, and above them, the sky rumbled angrily. Serra wondered if this was nature's idea of a joke; if it was, it certainly wasn't funny. "How _could..._!" And then the tent flap swung open; Serra dove behind the bushes just in time to see Priscilla running and to hear Raven yelling after her. For a moment it almost seemed like he was worried, but when he didn't even bother to go after her she knew it was just a formality.

Her head swimming, Serra pulled herself up, brushing the dirt and dead leaves from her clothing as she went after Priscilla. _Someone_ had to make sure that in her distress she didn't run headlong into danger. _Especially if she expects that creep Raven to come at just the right time and rescue her._

Fat drops of rain began to fall, and Serra tried her best to run between them, to no avail. Not that it mattered, as her head was full of Raven and Priscilla and all sorts of questions.

_Her brother._ Well, that certainly explained _something_. Maybe. It explained why Priscilla clung to him as she did, but it gained a sort of creepy undertone when coupled with her longtime assumption that the girl's feelings were romantic in nature. And what was this about her being from Caelin? Everything about her screamed Etrurian nobility.

Maybe she'd find out the whole story, maybe she wouldn't. She didn't know what she hoped to accomplish in running after her. Priscilla seemed like the type to reject any sort of company when she most needed it, and would likely snap at her to go away.

It didn't matter, though. If nothing else, she at least had to convince Priscilla to come back to camp before she got sick.

It was pouring by the time she found Priscilla, who was thankfully unharmed. She didn't even seem to notice the rain or that she was becoming soaked as she sat hunched against a fallen tree trunk. Priscilla always took such care of her appearance, but her clothes were dirty and her hair was a mess; she didn't look anything like a stuck up princess right now. She looked.._.broken,_ almost. Hurt. Vulnerable.

Human.

_So now what do I do?_ She'd barely ever spoken two words to this girl, how was she supposed to comfort her? Why did she _want_ to? Well, obviously someone had to after she'd just had her heart stomped on. Even if Raven was horrible, he was her family...from the sounds of it, he was all she had left of her old home. Serra knew all too well how it felt to be abandoned by family.

_But I'm not just an abandoned child anymore. I have many friends and loved ones, I'm in the employ of the largest territory in Lycia! My parents will be back for me someday, of course, but if by some slim change they don't, I'm not alone._

Alone. Could Priscilla simply be lonely? The men of the army paid so much attention to her, and the women admired her grace and princess-like mannerisms, but she didn't seem to have any _friends._

Without even thinking, Serra came to Priscilla's side and hugged her tightly, wrapping her cloak around the two of them. Priscilla seemed to snap out of her self-pity trance and looked at her, eyes mirroring confusion.

"M-miss Serra, I...how did you know I was-"

"I followed you," Serra said. "Look, it doesn't matter how I found you or what I overheard...well, it _does_, but-"

"I suppose you know everything now," Priscilla said with a sharp sniff. "I'll explain later, I just..." She buried her face in Serra's shoulder. "Raymond was all I had left, and he doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. My feelings...I never did truly expect him to keep that promise, but just as long as I could stand by his side..."

Serra tightened her arms around the other girl, stroking her wet hair away from her face. _He's a terrible person and you don't need him, you have your adoptive parents_, she wanted to say, but seeing Priscilla like this did something to her emotions that wouldn't allow her to speak in her usual blunt fashion.

"Maybe he'll come around," she offered. "But even if he doesn't, he's not all you have left. You have your adoptive parents, you have Erk..." She pulled back slightly to gaze into Priscilla's eyes. "You have me."

This seemed to comfort Priscilla for the moment, and she buried herself deeper into Serra's embrace, crying until all of her tears were spent and all that remained was cold and exhaustion.

"Miss Serra?"

"Yes?"

"I'm confused. You said...you said _you have me_, but you and I have-"

"-never spoken two words to each other before now. That doesn't matter...I _want_ to be here for you," Serra said.

Priscilla almost smiled.

"I thought you had a policy about never talking to girls as pretty as you were," she said. "I've been told I'm quite pretty." Serra laughed nervously, remembering that ridiculous rule she'd told Lucius, back when she'd thought him to be another girl.

"Well," she said, "for you, I guess I can make an exception." There was something about Priscilla that made her forget her need to be the best, the most beautiful, the most beloved...something in those beautiful green eyes that stripped past her defenses and absolutely _humbled_ her.

Priscilla sniffled, brushing the remaining tears from her cheeks.

"Do you truly think Raymond..._Raven_ will come around? I...I know it's silly of me to pin my hopes on one person, but..."

"Well, to be honest, I think he's a sour man who would sooner put his own foolish neck on the line than listen to the heartfelt pleas of his beautiful sister, so I'm not so sure about that," Serra said.

"I'm aware of my lord brother's shortcomings," Priscilla said. "But he is the only brother I have, and I still love him."

"I know," Serra sighed. "So for your sake, I hope he _does_ come around."

Priscilla smiled.

"Thank you, Serra. I...I'm glad that you were the one to find me out here," she said. "I owe you."

Serra shook her head.

"No, you don't."

They stood up, brushed the dirt from their clothes and huddled under Serra's cloak as they headed back to camp.

Serra had always considered herself an excellent judge of people. For once, she was glad she'd been wrong.


End file.
